


The B. French Dress Code

by imaducky



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Rumbelle - Freeform, Rumbelle Secret Santa 2013
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-17
Updated: 2014-05-17
Packaged: 2018-01-25 10:48:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1645934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaducky/pseuds/imaducky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fate has funny ways. Apparently for Robert Gold it involves a coffee-stained shirt and a dress code that is set in stone. For Rumbelle Secret Santa 2013</p>
            </blockquote>





	The B. French Dress Code

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tessdebelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tessdebelle/gifts).



> Teacher/Student AU  
> Originally posted on December 24, 2013 @ FanFiction

"No, no. I don't think you understood my intentions when I agreed to come with you." Jefferson joined his hands together and leaned a bit closer to his best friend, "I know you came here to sulk because Milah left you in favor of a sexy college rock star who, if I may add, is the team captain of the college basketball team and wears thick _guyliner_ all the time but still gets all the girls—"

Robert Gold had been listening to Jefferson Hatter whine about _his_ love life and about all things one could possibly whine about for almost a full hour. He could have, _should_ have, thrown him out of the coffee shop himself the first chance he got but he didn't because Jefferson was his friend. His _only_ friend. So he resisted the urge to hit him on the head with a shoe and pretended to listen as he watched the people pass by the coffee shop window beside them.

"—and we could start our own band! You would be the bassist. Frankie would be on drums. As for me, I'd be on lead vocals and shredding my guitar—" He started playing an invisible guitar, mimicking its sound, "—complete with Steampunk get-ups and _thicker_ guyliners. We'd call ourselves 'Believe or Leave'. It's genius! Wait until Frank hears about this. He'd be ecstatic! I bet Milah would come running back the moment she finds out. But hey, this is not about that. I'm not here to make you remember, no siree. I'm here to make you forget and you could only do that by allowing yourself to meet—dude, are you even listening to me?"

Robert sighed and finally looked at Jefferson, "Of course, I am." He said nonchalantly.

"Really? What was the last thing I said?" Jefferson challenged.

"Something about a magical portal to Wonderland."

"You suck."

"Funny. Milah said the exact same thing."

"Look, Bobby." Jefferson placed a hand on the shoulder of his best mate, "I can't believe I'm saying this but I am and I want you to know that I'm saying this from the bottom of my non-existent heart. _Milah doesn't deserve you._ "

Robert snorted, "Please! You're just saying that because you're my friend."

"Well, yeah! And as your friend, I will take you out tonight—"

"But—"

"—no buts, and we will find you a new lady love." Jefferson winked at him, mischief apparent in his eyes.

Robert had had enough of this. He moved to Storybrooke because he wanted to live somewhere peaceful. Somewhere no one knows him. He knew it was a long shot, being the only son of a wealthy controversial businessman back in Scotland, but this place, this small town, the moment he stepped foot on this isolated part of Maine, he _knew_ it was the perfect place for him to stay and forget. He wanted to forget about his past. He wanted to start anew. Away from all the buzzes of his previous life. But tagging along your best friend? Of course, he should have known something was bound to go wrong.

He needed a break. He couldn't listen to another word Jefferson had to say. So he stood up, grabbed his coffee and prepared to leave. But as he took his first step, another customer appeared out of nowhere and crashed straight into him, spilling the contents of his cup all over his expensive shirt. He closed his eyes. _God, I cannot catch a break!_

"I am _so_ sorry! You were there and then you were here and—oh gods! I'm very sorry!" A _woman_ , he figured. She had a sweet voice with a hint of an accent. Australian, if he wasn't mistaken. "Here, let me just—" She reached out to wipe the coffee off his shirt. He was about to shrug her off and yell at her for being clumsy but when he finally opened his eyes to see the culprit of his mishap, he stopped himself.

Never had he seen in his entire life anyone as beautiful as the woman standing in front of him. She had long, curly, brown locks. Some of them hung in front of her face but not long enough to cover her beautiful eyes. Her eyes. They were as blue as the sky and as deep as the ocean. The moment their eyes met, he was instantly captivated.

He was brought back from his daze when Jefferson stood up and introduced himself to the lady, "Jefferson." He bowed and placed a light kiss on her hand just like a prince straight from a fairytale.  _Jefferson, always the ridiculously charming one._

"Hello, Jefferson. My name is Belle." She said shyly, her cheeks still red from Jefferson's gentlemanly gesture. She then turned to Robert, waiting for him to introduce himself. Or just say something. Anything.

Jefferson looked at Robert then back at Belle then back to Robert again, "I'm sorry. He's been on a rough patch lately." He moved closer to her and _loudly_ whispered to make sure Robert would hear, "His high school sweetheart just dumped him."

Belle looked at Robert and said, "Oh, I'm sorry to hear that."

"Don't be." Robert answered almost instantly.

"I guess me spilling coffee all over you doesn't help your day huh?" She bit her lower lip shyly.

Robert couldn't help but smile. He decided that it was the cutest, most adorable thing he had seen anyone do, "Robert."

"I'm sorry?" Belle asked, confused.

"My name. It's Robert."

"Oh. Well, Robert. It's really nice to meet you. But I think it's time we do something about my mess." She examined his shirt then looked up at him, "My apartment is just a few blocks from here. It's at the Bed and Breakfast behind Granny's Diner. I'm sure I can find you something you can change into."

Robert saw in his peripheral vision Jefferson's eyes lighting up like twinkling lights on Christmas eve, "Oh, no. I'm sure there is no need to go through all that trouble." Jefferson looked at him like he was out of his mind, "I think I have a spare shirt in my car. It's all good."

"Are you sure? Because, really, it isn't that far. We could walk—"

"—I'm sure.” He smiled at her.

"Oh god, I feel really bad. Can you at least let me buy you another cup of coffee? Please. Just to sate my sanity."

Robert seemed to consider this. He moved closer to her, his eyes never leaving hers, “I'll tell you what, let me take you out to dinner Saturday night _then_ we can call it quits. How's that sound?"

Jefferson stared at Robert in disbelief. He didn't know his pal had it in him. All this time, he thought his best friend needed _his_ help. But it turned out he'd do fine on his own. Maybe he could even ask him to teach him a thing or two about the ladies.

"Hmm. Fair enough." Belle agreed.

"Great! Granny's Bed and Breakfast? I'll pick you up at 8."

* * *

"Do you have something that has less embarrassing words written on it?" Robert held out the black shirt Jefferson lent him. It had a skull with blue smoke around it and a very explicit typography.

"Hey, I'm not the one who turned down the pretty lady's offer. If you had just agreed to come to her apartment, you wouldn't have to suffer the embarrassment of wearing that shirt." Jefferson said smugly.

Robert groaned. Their first class had started half an hour ago and here they were still in the car in front of the entrance to the college arguing about a shirt. He could have bought a new one on the way but he knew that their professor, Professor Mills, would go ballistic if they were a minute more late.

Mrs. Cora Mills, popularly known as the Queen of Hearts because of her reputation of being so meticulously evil, would be their professor in creative writing. She could be pretty strict when it comes to her students' punctuality, especially Robert's. It wasn't a secret that Professor Mills was overly fond of the new kid from Scotland and this made Robert hate Thursday afternoons even more than he usually does.

Robert knew he had no choice but to wear Jefferson's stupid shirt. He took off his coffee-stained shirt and replaced it with the black, embarrassing one just as Jefferson's phone beeped indicating a new message.

"It's from Frankie." Jefferson read the message out loud, "Where are you? Queen of Hearts. Accident. Broke ankle. Substitute teacher. Hot. French. Hurry."

They both stepped out of the car, "They can't hire a French substitute teacher for creative writing, can they?" Robert asked Jefferson. But as he turned around, Jefferson was already running across the lawn to the entrance of the school.

"If she's hot, they can!" He shouted at Robert as the door closed behind him.

 _Typical Jefferson._ Robert shook his head, locked his car and followed him to their class. A lot had happened in the past few hours but there was only one constant thing on his mind— _Belle._

* * *

Robert stepped into the classroom. It was quite small for class purposes but then again Professor Mills liked to _filter_ her students because, in her own words, " _so only the brilliant and worthy ones get to learn from the best._ "

Jefferson had taken his seat beside Frank Whale who was one of their very first friends when they moved here. Jefferson and Frank had a lot in common more than they cared to admit and they hit it off the very instant they met.

Frank waved him over, pointing to the seat in front of him. Jefferson's eyes were glued to the back of the new professor, waiting for her to turn around so he could finally see her face. His seat was at the opposite side of the room. He needed to pass by the professor's desk to get there. Thank god she had her back to the class. He could easily walk over to his seat without having to be under her scrutiny.

Mary Margaret gave him a small smile as he passed. Beside her was Ashley Boyd, looking so exhausted. Probably because of her working part-time at the diner while taking care of her new-born baby. She barely managed to keep her eyes open.

"I guess you're going to have to sit beside me, cutie." Regina Mills, the Queen's daughter, said in her most sultry voice.

Robert looked over and glared at Frank. He sat down, mindful to keep a good distance from Regina. However, this didn't stop her from invading his personal space. She leaned towards him and placed her hand on his arm, "Have you heard what happened to my mother?"

"I did. Is she—" He moved a couple of inches away from her, "—is she going to be alright?"

"Oh, the nurse said she'll be just fine. She just needs some time to recuperate."

He felt her hand play with the hair at the nape of his neck, "I was thinking if maybe you would want to come over to my house after class and maybe—" Regina paused and looked hungrily at his lips, "—hang out?"

Robert's mind went overload. He had limited experience when it comes to girls. He only dated one girl his entire life and look where that came to. He was not used to girls coming onto him and this situation he found himself in made him uncomfortable beyond belief. Women were Jefferson's forte. Not his. Then a sound of someone clearing their throat interrupted Regina before she could go any further. _Oh thank God!_

"Excuse me _._ If the both of you cannot wait until the end of my class to get your hands all over each other, then you may step out of the—"

"You have got to be kidding me." Robert heard Jefferson say from behind him. He followed Jefferson's gaze and found a familiar pair of blue orbs staring right back at him.

"Belle?" Robert asked, incredulously.

"You know her?" Regina grimaced.

Robert was too astounded to even give Regina an answer. Or to talk at all. _How the hell did this happen? Isn't she too young to be a professor? Isn't the substitute supposed to be French? Belle is most definitely not French._ These were only some of the things that went through his head.

When the initial shock wore off and everyone seemed to have composed themselves, Belle continued, "—if you cannot wait, you may step out of my class." She then turned her back to the class to continue writing on the board what could only seem to be their lesson for that day.

"Can you believe this person? Asking me to step out of my own mother's class. The nerve!" Regina spat.

"This _person_ happens to have a name. It's Belle French—" She turned around and said to Regina sternly, "— _Professor_ Belle French. And as long as your mother isn't here, _I_ am the one in charge."

Regina looked daggers at the sub before she stood up and walked out of the class. Robert snickered. Finally, someone had the nerve to tell Regina off. It was a very satisfying moment to watch and he'd be lying if he said he was not at least a little bit turned on by how Be—Ms. French—handled the whole situation.

"Is there something you find amusing, Mr.—?"

"Gold. Robert Gold."

Ms. French looked down at his shirt then back up to him, "Mr. Gold, I'm going to have to ask you to change."

"Excuse me?"

"There is one thing I will not tolerate in my class and that is shirts with foul words. I like to call it the B. French Dress Code."

"Ms. French, for sure you would understand. I had a bit of a _situation_. See, my good mate Jefferson here and I were in a coffee shop earlier this morning and a very  _clumsy_ woman bumped into me and spilt coffee all over my shirt. I had nothing to wear but this." He smirked, clearly enjoying this slight turn of event.

Belle narrowed her eyes at him, "Of course, she would have offered you a change of clothes?" She challenged.

"Aye, that she did. But then I would turn up late for class."

"You _were_ late for class. I have eyes at the back of my head. I saw you come in. Nice try."

The whole class was silently watching the rally of words between Professor French and Robert Gold. Both were determined to put the last word in.

"I already told you, Ms. French. I don't have a spare shirt."

"Well, then I guess I would have to see you after class, Mr. Gold."


End file.
